Day 41. 10 small moments

1. I wake up groggy to the “huruk-huk-hoo” of the birds calling out to each other and remember where I am.

2. I manually prepare the coffee for 4 cups, and start the coffee maker. She had shown me where the electric grinder was yesterday. I thanked her too excessively because I was embarrassed about preferring to do it the long way with my little hand grinder. Each revolution of the crank is part of a ritual towards bliss.

3. A mug of coffee while sitting in a garden of cacti and lime trees. It would be lovely and idyllic except for the aggressive leaf-blower harshing the vibe...

4. Scrambled eggs, fried cheese, pinto de Gallo, corn tortillas, Lizano salsa and fresh fruit on the side. This is the Costa Rican breakfast I look forward to always.

5. He texts me photos of them and I die a little.

6. The heat presses down on us during our walkabout. Plumeria and mimosas and archways and hot pavement.

7. I read the labels at the farmacia to try and practice my Spanish while I wait for her.

8. We return, once again, to the gallery. She’s crafting another while we pick out more pieces to covet and buy. She seems more harried than yesterday, and quietly complains about too many customers keeping her from her art. This three minute exchange haunts me and makes me contemplate the life of the Artist.

9. We take photos together while the light is kind. I’m not at all used to someone taking my photo, and so I try to cover my awkwardness by being silly. I am eleven years old again.

10. Dining al fresco for our last evening together. Belly laughter and sharing stories.